The Thénardier's Inn
by everyonesalittleinsane
Summary: A short one-shot promised to thaliasandy on tumblr. UPDATED: I have posted a second chapter due to your lovely reviews. Rated a very mild 'M'.
1. A Mess

_A low mist hung around the streets of Montfermeil, consuming all light into a dull grey. Only one small glimmer of yellow could be seen through the dirt-air. If you were to follow it curiously late at night, you would find yourself offered a seat at the Thénardier's Inn._

Madame Thénardier crept around crockery and excavated coins from piles of last night's rubble, managing the findings of a gold ring and chaise silver tooth. Her husband lay motionless on the floor, a pair of red women's bloomers lying over his eyes, as to block out the piercing light of freshly-lit torches.

"Wakey, wakey, love," she nudged him with her foot, watching him groan and roll over flat onto his stomach. She shoved him again, this time adding emphasis by kicking his ear with the toe of her boot. He stirred abruptly.

"Tell me when you're awake," he dozily scoffed, gripping his head with his arms and muzzling into them.

She tried to hold back her smile but gave in, knowing he wasn't taking any notice of her.

All that Madame had on her Monsieur was her ability to bounce back after each night's hangover. After her years of working and drinking before she'd even met her so-called prince, the morning after a busy night she barely felt anything anymore. He, though, still managed to sleep until 5pm, and was able to go weeks without seeing sunlight.

Madame gave up with a sigh of dismay and made her way to the centre bar table, which she faintly remembered dancing atop of the night before. She examined it. It wasn't very sturdy; she's lucky it didn't fall.

Monsieur Thénardier groaned in the corner and started to reluctantly lug himself up off the ground.

Disheartened, Madame sighed once again. Lucky?

"Oh, my love," Monsieur stumbled towards her, pausing a moment to gather his bearings then manoeuvring a grapevine through filth the rest of the way.

"Oh!" She feigned delight, beckoning him forward with one hand.

Once he had nearly reached her she stepped aside, allowing him to land on their largest beer keg and hug it lovingly. Madame tilted her head and watched him kiss its frayed wood and whisper sweet tunes.

"I'm over here," she bellowed coolly at him, hoping to sharpen the pains in his head if only for a moment.

He turned and looked at her with tired, red eyes. "I know."

Monsieur turned back to his love.

"You're a shit, you know that?" Madame growled, but got no reaction.

A gust of cool outside air blew soiled rubbish around their feet and Madame rolled her eyes; a bloody mess and entirely his fault. She coyly stepped towards him and without warning grabbed him softly around the waist. She felt him tense and slowly moved one hand downwards.

"We haven't had a chance to be alone in a while," she whispered hotly into his ear, her breath like intangible fire against his neck, "but I've been so very busy lately."

Monsieur shivered and closed his eyes, feeling her nails through the fabric of his pants searching his crotch inquisitively.

"I've been run off my feet," she scanned the side of his face, pulling her hand back up slightly, "I feel like I might need a lay _down_."

As Madame spoke, she pushed her hand down the front of his pants. She heard a low grumble escape him.

"Will you help me lay down?" She spoke gently and innocently, pressing herself closer against him.

Monsieur swallowed impatiently and nodded.

"Will you do-" she tightly clasped his crotch, feeling movement, "anything?"

"Yes, yes," he turned around and began kissing her bare chest, fondling the back of her corset in search of the knot, "anything."

Madame leant her head back, feeling his mouth against her breasts. He became franticly horny, pulling at the strings of her clothes.

"Well then," she pushed him away and looked him up and down, "Sort out this mess."

She then flourished somewhat gracefully, before charging off elsewhere and leaving Monsieur with broken hope, a hardness, and a mess to clean up.


	2. I Love You

_A week had passed since Thénardier and his wife had last spoken. It was then that she had left him alone to clean up the inn after a long night, and spent the next two nights staying with friends. He spent his lone torture plotting, and meant for silence when she came back. It would build the tension he intended to break._

After 5 days of absolutely no marital interchange, Madame Thénardier had grown fond of her own thoughts and freedom to take whatever pickings of customer – or 'target' – she pleased. On the last night of quiet, Madame was at her usual; scrounging for gifts from patrons.

The first part of the evening was spent collecting hairpins and attempting to aggregate a wholly new guise, but she had been lucky to have a wealthy punter attend the evening. After a friendly kiss, and seemingly accidental slip of her tongue, Thénardiess had managed to exhume the man's coin-purse and thrust it down the top of her corset.

Soon she grew tired and found a faded wooden perch under the stairs, but immediately felt an arm grab around her waist from behind. She stood, startled, and pushed backwards.

"My love," her husband's voice whispered, wrapping his other hand around her, too.

"You bloody bugger!" Madame pulled away and turned aggressively towards him. "I thought you was a kidnapper tryn'a kidnap me!"

"I might be, still," Monsieur smirked playfully and tried to grab her again.

He was halted and thrusted farther away: "Stop it, you shit."

"'Ey, now, lovely," Monsieur grabbed her shoulders and looked into the eyes he chose to match his, "is it gone?"

Madame shifted uncomfortably under his touch.

"Is what gone?" she answered, weary and irritated, her arms hugged across her chest.

"Us," Monsieur's jaw shivered slightly and his eyes grew glassy.

Madame saw emotion in the man she had spent her life with that she had never seen before. He seemed almost concerned about a serious matter; one unrelated to their usual serious affairs regarding Javert and acquaintances.

"What d'you mean?" The woman squinted suspiciously, not yet sure of his approach.

"I mean; we's used to be in love and all'o'that stuff," Monsieur looked downwards, hiding his face and then covering it with his hand.

Madame heard a sniff and grinned widely.

"Are you crying, ya poofter?" She stepped into him, trying to pull his hands away without giggling.

"No," Thénardier grumbled from under cloth and limbs, pulling away from her, "I'm not."

"You are, you big softie!"

Madame couldn't hold in her laugh, although it was slightly maniacal due to default.

Thénardier moaned, pushing her arms away and looking at her with red eyes, "Stop it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Madame replied silly and mindlessly, stepping away indirectly.

"STOP IT!" Monsieur yelled angrily at her, fists and teeth clenched.

Madame looked shocked, having not heard anger from him in a long time; directed at her, at least.

"I love you – is that a problem?" he snapped at her, holding his stance and staring straight at her.

The room of regulars had grown quiet. They were seeing the most interesting of things that night; the merry innkeeper and his wife were not so merry.

"I-" Monsieur whispered, dropping his gaze and guts to speak again.

"No, lovie," Madame stepped in and hugged his chest tightly; "I love you, too."

The couple embraced longingly, ignoring all else happening in the world. Madame had hope for a moment like this, because, dare she speak it, she did yearn for a little romance in her world of unhappy gloom.

Monsieur started rubbing her back in comfort before pulling away to see her face. She looked up at him with childish delight, smiling softly.

At once her took her in his arms and lifted her, bringing her face to his height and kissing her passionately. Madame moaned softly, having not felt so alive in a long time. She kissed back harder than ever, and when he dropped her to the ground again, he backed her towards the wall under the stairs.

There he started stirring his hands about her waist, slowly growing higher and higher. He felt for the strings of her corset and undid them slightly.

"We have customers!" She sniggered, pushing him away.

"I don't care," he responded, pushing her further into the corner and out of their sight.

Again he grabbed at her corset, but had moved on to the front. He dragged a hand up to the low opening at her chest and plunged it inside. Madame leant her head back and sighed faintly, pushing her pelvis against him and feeling his hand rubbing against her bare breast.

"Ah," Monsieur looked up at her. He grinned before retracting his hand bearing the coin purse he had been looking for.

Madame looked at him confusedly while he stepped back and gathered his wits, before pecking his wife affectionately on the cheek.

"'Love you!" he grinned and escaped the pub in search of his friends.

After shock wore off, Madame smiled softly, putting her head in her hands out of embarrassment rather than anger.

She called after him, sure she meant it; "I love you, too."

* * *

_Thank you for all the lovely reviews! I couldn't resist a sequel. x_


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